


the woods are lovely, dark and deep

by TheAnonymouse2



Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amulet of Daylight, Awkward Conversations, Changelings, Death, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Fairies, Gen, Gnomes, Kanjigar is severely overwhelmed, On Hiatus, Original Troll Tribe, Past, Soothscrier, Sorry guys, Yikes, because that freaking comic messed up all my plans, or there were updates every Friday back when I was writing this, this is just the fucking worst, updates every Friday
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-02-18 21:05:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13108509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAnonymouse2/pseuds/TheAnonymouse2
Summary: ...but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep-Robert FrostKanjigar the Courageous wasn't always known as such; he wasn't always the legendary Trollhunting hero who outclassed his predecessors and inspired his fellow trolls. Earning that title took far more than one would assume.A look at the past helps to better understand the future.





	1. chapter one

_I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape. Something waits beneath it; the whole story doesn't show_

_-Andrew Wyeth_

 

Forests have a kind of natural beauty about them-a sense of calm, of peace, imbued in the great wooden creatures that plant themselves firmly in the ground and arch lovingly over the mossy ground. They know things, these leafy giants, they see things in the dead of night mortals can hardly dream of, and that air of knowledge, of mystery, is bewitching to us humans.

 

Tonight, the trees are hiding more secrets.

 

Tarigar raced through the undergrowth, demolishing years worth of delicate ferns as he pounded away from the hulking mass of jagged stone behind him. He spared a glance over his shoulder and wished he hadn’t as his feet tangled in a tree root and sent him crashing to the ground.

 

Grating laughter sent the avians of the area frantically airborne; Tarigar regretted that he could not join them.

 

“It seems you have run out of luck, Trollhunter.” The other troll’s voice matched his appearance and leering grin, harsh and dark.

 

“There’s luck, and then there’s skill.” Tarigar shifted, rising to his feet quickly, ignoring the stab of pain the motion brought. “I think you will find I have plenty of both.” He lunged, swift, not swift enough, and his shining blade met empty air as Tarigar’s moment drove him forward, crashing into an oak.

 

“Really?”

 

Tarigar barely avoided a scathing swipe of the other troll’s sword, and when a second blow followed, he did not avoid it at all. A scream resounded and Tarigar stumbled backwards, gripping his arm tightly to his body.

 

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, Bular.” Tarigar panted, broadcasting confidence in his words even as his body betrayed him, arms and legs weak and begging for this to end, one way or another.

 

Bular snorted and slammed into his opponent, knocking the wind out of Tarigar and the sword from his hand as he reeled from the blow. His hand grazed a patch of light and he recoiled as best he could, ignoring the pain that lumped itself onto the pile of agony the Trollhunter was struggling to suppress. The sun was almost at its zenith, rosy remnants of the sunset dispersing in the blue sky.

 

“Your bravado is admirable, but it will be your undoing.” Bular dragged his swords against the ground slowly, letting the metallic sound echo between the trees before bringing a sword underneath his enemy’s chin. Tarigar winced at the sharp edge digging into his flesh. He shoved at the other troll frantically, trying to dislodge the arm wielding the sword, thinking longingly of his own weapon, which lay far from his grasp. He desperately tried to summon it to no avail, his tired mind betraying him.

 

 

The world slowed, Bular’s sword pulling back and forging a new path in a steady, hypnotic path. Tarigar felt his hands moving to his chest, saw Bular’s blade draw closer to his midsection. Bular realized what the blue troll was about to do seconds before it happened.

 

 

Tarigar spat out his final words between heavy breaths

 

“So be it.”

 

The amulet disconnected and Tarigar let out a sigh as the heavy weight of armor left him.

 

 

With his last vestiges of strength, arm numb, he flung the amulet away, watched it swirl through the air with detached disinterest, saw it land in a broad patch of sun drenched grass, practically deaf to Bular’s cries. He didn’t even feel it when Bular’s sword drove into his stomach. Light flooded his vision, accompanied by a high pitched ringing, and then he was looking at himself, watching his own body crumble into dust.

 

_Blindingly bright, atrociously quiet, Tarigar came into existence suddenly, without warning, the lurching sensation of entering another realm sitting poorly in his stone stomach._

 

_Looking down, he saw his own hands, his own body, wispy and ethereal, lines of blue against a stark white background rapidly fading to black stone walls and a starry sky._

 

_He knew this place._

 

_“I’m…” his words trailed into nothing as his situation struck him and he stood silently, floundering with what to do and what to say and what to feel._

 

_“Dead. Welcome back to the Void, Tarigar.” a ball of brilliant blue streaked in front of him and materialized rapidly, a form building in broad streaks and Tarigar dropped to one knee._

 

_“Deya the Deliverer.” his tone was reverent, appropriately so, and when he deemed his position of respect had sufficiently conveyed his awe he looked up to the great Trollhunter’s extended hand._

 

_“Rise, Tarigar, and take your place among your fellow warriors.”_

 

_Hesitantly, he did as she bid, and allowed himself to be led to an unoccupied podium. His hand grazed the untouched stone surface._

 

_“This is where my body will go?” the phrase tasted strange, no stranger than the sensation of his hand slipping through the solid rock instead of alighting upon its surface._

 

_“Yes.”_

 

_“I...I do not know what to think of this. Is my son…” here Tarigar halted and it crashed upon him again. He was dead, a spirit, sentenced to eternity in this realm. Deya placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and he started._

 

_“I wish I could lie to you, but I cannot tell you that he will be safe.” her eyes tightened._

 

_“What do you mean?”_

 

_“Perhaps it is best,” Deya sighed, lines of her body tense as she passed an arm through the air, ripples of fog parting to an image Tarigar recognized with sickening clarity, “that you see who has been chosen as the next Trollhunter.”_


	2. chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new Trollhunter is chosen, and his first mission goes somewhat awry.  
> In the corners of this realm, shadows creep.

_Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall_

_-Confucius_

 

Agman walked carefully, skirting around the faint patches of sunlight filtering through the leafy treetops. Now was not the time for a sun wound. There were more important matters to be attended to, such as the pile of stone scattered carelessly across the forest floor. The pale green troll paused, considering the rubble, and let out a deep sigh before moving on. The erratic patterns of shadow steered clear from the rocks at this time of day. They would have to be attended to at a later date. Agman made a note to send someone out to collect the remains later in the day, possibly after moonrise.

 

That done, no more time was spent on barely recognizable fragments, regrettably. Agman moved on through the shadow until he found what he was looking for, a circular amulet, casting its own light through the wavering grey, thrumming gently.

 

Tarigar had done well. Agman felt a pang of sadness at the thought of the former Trollhunter. The blue troll had always performed well, if not fantastically, and the old trainer had harbored a special liking for Tarigar, as one is liable to when day and night for years are spent training and watching as a young whelp grows into a seasoned warrior.

 

He had already grieved, though, and not a second more could be wasted so close to Arcadia. Bular could return at any moment, not to mention the risk of discovery. Agman bent, collected the amulet, and began his journey out of the forest and towards the bridge, stopping only to collect the shading mechanism crafted specially for missions such as these, for the threat of sun exposure was one that had to be overcome some way.

 

The amulet, for it’s part, made no protest to it’s relocation, though it never did. It was quite for the duration of the journey, besides an occasional hum, and Agman was inside Troll Market before he knew it, making his way down the crystal steps with relief coursing through his body at the confrontation he had not endured.

 

As soon as his feet touched the ground, a crowd surged towards him, bubbling around him with exclamations at the amulet he held, though the trolls still managed to form a manageable path through the excited stone bodies. Agman did not pay any attention to the thousands of questions flung at him in rapid succession, saying not a word until he reached the relative center of Troll Market, where, standing with grim dignity on a sturdy walkway in front of the vibrant heartstone, Vendel awaited his report.

 

“So he really is…” Vendel started upon seeing the amulet Agman bore with grave severity, then stopped when Agman offered him a solemn nod. The older troll heaved a sigh and held out a hand in which Agman placed the amulet before stepping aside as Vendel turned to the mass of trolls gathered, viewing this quick exchange with bated breath and quite chatter that rose to a fever pitch as Vendel lifted the amulet into the air.

 

“Citizens of Troll Market, it seems we have lost yet another Trollhunter to the savage brutality of our enemies. As always, though, hope remains, and with Tarigar gone, the time has come for the Amulet of Daylight to choose another to bear this noble title.” It was the same speech every time, and what followed next was the same as well; trolls growing quite as the amulet hummed thoughtfully, preparing it’s words, (one would hope), while everyone waited with bated breath for the choice to be made, hoping they were chosen and at the same time praying they were not. This could go on for hours as the amulet stewed, but this time the Trollhunter’s name was spoken almost as soon as silence fell.

 

“Kanjigar.” Murmurs ripped through the crowd, and they parted slowly as the chosen troll made his way to the front, followed closely by his family (ah yes, his family, Agman kept forgetting this troll had grown up ages ago) uncertainty written across his face in little lines. Agman winced internally.

 

It was rare for a Trollhunter’s successor to be related to them, and direct descendancy was practically unheard of. Agman knew better than to disagree with Merlin’s choice, as the protegees he took on were apt to catch him by surprise, but he felt doubt swelling up at Kanjigar’s face. He had tended to the other troll often when he was a whelp, rolling around Hero’s Forge, frantically being ushered away from flame spurts and flying blades. The skill with which Tarigar had handled his offspring was remarkable, and the young troll had grown into a warrior (moreso than the other whelps bumbling around chasing gnomes) but that did not qualify one for Trollhunter status. And besides, an emotional Trollhunter was liable to all sorts of disasters, as Agman learned quickly, especially one grieving the very recent loss of his father.

 

“Kanjigar.” the amulet spoke again, and Vendel held it out to the hesitant troll in question, who grasped it after a moment of deliberation. Vendel turned to the crowd.

“Trolls, I present your new Trollhunter, Kanjigar, son of Tarigar!” obligatory cheers filled the air, and Agman took this as his time to approach the new Trollhunter, who despite admirable attempts to retain a strong appearance, was looking rather lost.

 

“Come,” Agman placed a hand on his new charge’s shoulder. “We have training to begin.”

 

-

 

It was darker then it had ever been before. Utol could still remember when the delicate mud walls glowed with faint warmth, golden light illuminating their cracked earthen home. The light was dim now, too faint to discern without squinting for several minutes, and they had to rely on _torches_ , mundane fleshbag contraptions that captured fire for fleeting moments. The shadows bent around Utol’s craggy frown.

 

Footsteps echoed through the chambers and Utol stood from his makeshift throne as one of his generals hurried in and slid into a hasty bow.

 

“My liege, I bring news from Fagon.” Utol furrowed his brow. Fagon almost never felt the need to contact him unless something had gone horribly astray. The Keeper was reclusive, even by the tribe’s standards, and most of the trolls who dwelled in the caves had never even seen Fagon outside of the Vault.

 

“Rise, Borar. What does Fagon say?” Borar scrambled to his feet. “Is it about the Heart Stone?”

 

“Yes. It appears the estimation on how long it will last was...off. It is fading quickly, quicker than we thought.”

 

Utol sat down.

 

“How long do we have?”

 

Borar paused for a moment, remembering.

 

“Little more than a week.”

 

“ _WHAT!_ ” Utol roared. That was less than half of the time they had previously assumed they would have. Borar scuttled back a bit as Utol seethed, slamming his fists on the side of his throne, ignoring the cracks that formed there.

 

“Gather the generals.” Utol announced, rage fading, replaced by concern and the rapidly approaching headache. “This will set us back, but the relocation is still on. Our rise is coming.”

 

-

 

“Left! To your _left_ , Trollhunter!”

 

Kanjigar whirled out of the way just as a spurt of flame erupted from the wall behind him, singing the air next to him. From the steps Agman watched, hands folded, screaming instructions and advice any time anything came near Kanjigar. He had already tried to drill into Kanjigar’s head the rules of Trollhunting several times, as though the newly appointed warrior didn’t already know them, as if he hadn’t been raised with those rules recited to him in sparring sessions with his father.

 

He huffed and ducked away from a swinging blade, weaving through obstacles as best he could, unaccustomed to the weight the armor brought, throwing him off balance more than once, though he was careful to correct himself before he made any life threatening errors. Agman did not need to know his weaknesses, only that he had strength enough to be treated like the _experienced warrior_ he was.

 

His objective was the center of the arena; the Soothscrier, and he was very nearly there, sprinting up a steep, quickly rising platform that was beginning to tilt, sending him nearly careening down to the ground before he recovered himself and, focusing intently, regained his balance, starting up again. Then a blur of green and muddy red streaked in screaming something unintelligible and Kanjigar saw Agmen run for the controls out of the corner of his eye. He turned to see what was happening and experienced a tremor on the deeply slanted surface, then it started sliding back into place, jarring him in the middle of his all-out charge, and Kanjigar’s insides lurched as he hurtled towards the ground.

 

Agmen yelled something.

 

Luckily, Kanjigar’s landing was intercepted. Unluckily, it was intercepted by an irate troll woman. He quickly rolled to the side and scrambled to his feet.

 

“Who do you think you are you brute! I- oh.” The sickeningly green troll stopped whatever train of thought she had begun as she stood up slowly, eyes boring into Kanjigar. It made him uncomfortable.

 

“I apologize.” Kanjigar said, investigating for any potential injuries he might have sustained in the fall. Thus far it seemed he was sore, but alive and well. “Are you alright?”

 

“I don’t see why I wouldn’t be, in the presence of such a handsome troll as yourself.” the other troll fluffed her hair and plastered a smile on her face. Kanjigar blinked.

 

“I see. Well, I do have some training to attend to, so I believe you ought to-”

 

“Oh no! I have a problem for you, Trollhunter. Help me with it?” she fluttered her eyelashes. Kanjigar glanced behind him at Agman, who seemed more exasperated than anything.

 

“A Trollhunter answers every call, Kanjigar.” Agman sighed. Kanjigar restrained a frown and turned back to the woman.

 

“Very well. I shall aid you with this problem, miss…?”

 

“Bagdwella.” she grinned and held out a hand, looking at him from under her eyelashes. Kanjigar shook her hand, Bagdwella looked disappointed, and Agman sighed again.

 

“What do you need, Bagdwella?” Bagdwella gave Agman a lofty scowl.

 

“My fairies escaped. I need this lovely Trollhunter,” a pause to smile at Kanjigar, “to recapture them.”

 

“You have fairies?” Kanjigar interjected in disbelief. Bagdwella beamed.

 

“Why yes, and all sorts of other things. If you come to my shop sometime I can show you…”

 

Kanjigar cleared his throat.

 

“Where did you last have your fairies?”

 

“I was taking them out to get a change of scenery,I set them down for one minute, look at some charms, and then when I turn around they’re gone!”

 

“Yes, but where did you take them?” Agman rubbed his forehead and Bagdwella huffed.

 

“I’ll show you. Follow me.” and without another word she snatched Kanjigar’s arm in an iron grip and started dragging him out of the Forge. Agman followed, after a few muttered words about civilians in the Forge.

 

-

 

Kanjigar had been looking for a length of time far too long for his liking, what seemed like eternity of scanning under craggy stone tables and peering into corners, while Bagdwella took every opportunity to flirt with him and Agman suggested where to search next. In the end, it wasn’t he who  found the fairies but the fairies who found him.

 

He was on his last thread of tolerance, irritated that his first Trollhunting mission was to be a fruitless expedition after _fairies_ of all creatures, and rather self conscious about the questioning looks cast his way and the muttered comments he didn’t quite catch. Kanjigar had abandoned his armor for the search, as there was no need for it, and Daylight, even sheathed on his back, had a habit of getting in the way, clanging into things when he turned and generally causing a ruckus when his attention was not diverted to ensuring nothing collided with the sword.

 

The first sign of the fairies was the chattering; pitched lower than Gnommish and too high to be Troll, a dialect Kanjigar had never heard before, but it really couldn’t be anything but Fairy. He hushed Bagdwella, who was in the middle of some story about something or other, possibly about the fairies in question, Kanjigar hadn’t really been listening anyway, and strained his ears as the faint voices become less and less faint.

 

Then a puff of acrid smoke that glittered in an utterly unnatural way billowed up from the ground and directly into Kanjigar’s face. Spluttering and coughing, he wheeled back and squinted into the dissipating smoke, ignoring the stinging in his eyes. A shadow darted past, then another, and in front of Kanjigar stood two fairies, laughing before fishing out an odd little something from a pouch hanging off of their ratty clothes.

 

“For the glory of Merlin, Daylight is mine to command.” quickly Kanjigar uttered the incantation and his armor flashed into existence. The fairies stared at him for a moment, a troll in armor like that must have been an odd sight for such simple creatures, and Kanjigar took this opportunity to charge towards them. It looked like he was going to catch them, but at the last moment the two separated, darting to the sides and sending Kanjigar straight into a wall with his momentum. He shook it off best he could and began the chase.

 

Grabbing a basket off of a nearby stand, (leaving Agman to make hasty apologies to the owner), Kanjigar sprinted after the fairies who were bounding along cheerfully. Swiping madly with the basket yielded no results, as the fairies dodged every attempt at capture, and rounded a corner. Kanjigar huffed and slowed down, momentarily, and then resumed.

 

The fairies had darted under one of the covered stalls, making faces and probably insulting gestures at the Trollhunter. Somewhere in the distance, Bagdwella shrieked what Kanjigar assumed to be the fairies’ names.

 

“Malum! Mehemi! Stop that this instant!”

 

The fairies, unsurprisingly, did not mind the troll’s commands, but they were staying in one place, though that did not make them any easier to capture. Kanjigar drew Daylight and sliced at the poles keeping the covering aloft, sending bright red fabric spiralling directly on top of the fairies. They squealed in protest, and Kanjigar triumphantly pulled the corners of the cloth together, only to look down and find a hole at the bottom and the green and blue culprits dashing away.

 

This time the little fairies did not simply run. No, they ran while bombarding Kanjigar with little glittery rocks that exploded on impact, some with flames that were batted out quickly and some with more of the intolerable smoke. To further complicate matters, the ones that missed Kanjigar were sent flying into stands, houses, and civilians, and soon a good portion of Troll Market was on fire. Kanjigar kept running. Agman had stopped following the chase ages ago, huffing and puffing and collapsing against a wall, as old trolls are apt to do, which was helpful, because it was much easier to concentrate when Agman was not relaying helpful advice at top volume.

 

The fairies were, for the most part, running in one direction, and if Kanjigar had payed a bit more attention he might have realized their goal. It wasn’t until they scampered up a large orange troll minding his own business and rushed away with an orange crystal nearly as large as they were that realization dawned. The crystal steps were visible, blue glow overtaking the distance, and Kanjigar doubled his pace, tired as he was from running across Troll Market.

 

The fairies reached the stairs seconds before Kanjigar did and started up faster than the Trollhunter would have liked, passing the Horngazzel between themselves and scrambling up the steps that were as large as they were with ease. Kanjigar counted himself lucky their leathery wings were too tattered to fly, or he would be out of luck. As it was, he was directly behind them, swiping at them as he barely avoided tripping and sliding back down the steps. He was almost upon them when they glanced at each other, back at him, flung a handful of powder over their curled wings, and shot into the air, far out of Kanjigar’s reach. Kanjigar cursed.

 

The little beasts were at the top of the stairs now, chuckling and flapping as they drew out a shaky arch just small enough for them to squeeze through. Kanjigar sprinted up the remaining steps, scaled the last few feet, and with a wave and a laugh the fairies dropped the Horngazzel and darted through the glowing blue portal. Kanjigar fell to the ground and stuck his arm after them, trying to reach one of them, perhaps. But though their spiteful giggles echoed through the portal, it seemed the fairies were long gone. Kanjigar rose to his feet, defeated, and started back down the stairs, not looking forward to explaining to Vendel as to how he had unleashed fairies upon Arcadia, where they would most definitely wreak havoc on the poor fleshbags who lived there, and, more importantly, confusion.

 

He encountered Agman upon the completion of his descent, and seeing his charge fairie-less and dejected, the older troll patted his arm in a manner that was meant to be comforting.

 

“I see the fairies evaded you. We shall try again once you recover your energy.”

 

Kanjigar shook his head tiredly.

 

“They acquired a Horngazzel off of a citizen.”

 

Agman blinked.

 

“They went to the _surface_?”

 

A nod.

 

Agman frowned.

 

“I see. Well… I will talk to Vendel about this. In the meantime, I doubt anything can be done until nightfall, so...rest. I’m sure this won’t be too much of a problem.”

 

Kanjigar was too exhausted to argue about the tact of fairies and that _there was a reason they were banished to uninhabited areas_ and settled for nodding quietly and trudging off home, letting his armor vanish, as Agman hurried off to explain the situation to the leader of Troll Market.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visit my tumblr for an illustration of the fairies and more facts about them (it was entirely too much fun to create them)


	3. chapter three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bular and his company plot, fairies are dealt with, and no one should remind Ognaf that he's actually not being paid.

_I'm not afraid of storms, for I'm learning how to sail my ship_

_-Louisa May Alcott_

 

Bular paced restlessly, stone tail dragging against the tiled floor with an unpleasant scraping sound. He glanced out the windows stationed near the preposterously tall ceiling (taller than _him_ , which was a welcome relief from the miniature proportions humans often built), annoyed to see that the sun had not even _begun_ to dip down, and the sky remained stubbornly blue.

 

He cursed, for perhaps the twelfth time in the hour, and his companion raised an eyebrow.

 

“Are you going to do that _every_ five minutes?”

 

The troll ignored the mocking tones lurking in the changeling’s voice.

 

“When will the goblins arrive?” Bular huffed, still pacing.

 

“They’re assets, but not infallible. If you wanted it to go quickly you should have sent a changeling-” The changeling’s voice was cut off as Bular snarled and wrapped a stone hand around his neck, lifting him several feet and glaring contemptuously.

 

“I will not have an impure tell me what I should or should not have done. I do not trust your brethren, much as I do not trust you. Do not forget your place, Stricklander.” spitting the changeling’s name with as much venom as he could muster, Bular dropped his ‘ally’ just as the doors swung open, heralding the arrival of three or so spider like beasts, jabbering furiously.

 

Bular frowned. Stricklander picked himself up off the floor.

 

“Where is the amulet?” Bular demanded, stalking towards the little green monsters who started chattering more intensely, probably excuses and apologies, meant to save their putrid hides.

 

“It would seem our companions arrived too late.” Bular sensed a beginning lecture in Stricklander’s voice, the changeling had grown far too comfortable in his role as a teacher, and felt a rush of anger at being foiled yet again.

 

With a roar, he stomped down on the nearest goblin, rendering it a useless pile of goop, and proceeded to do the same to any more of the fiends he could catch. After a minute of this, Stricklander watching impassively from his position next to one of the columns positioned around the room, the last of the goblins fled and Bular lifted his foot from a pile of goblin remains with disgust.

 

“If you are quite finished with your temper tantrum-”

 

“Watch your words, impure…”

 

Stricklander rolled his eyes and the warning went supposedly unheeded (though Bular knew the changeling would be somewhat more subdued tonight; he never overstepped more boundaries than he thought he could) and continued.

 

“I believe if we attempt a different approach, one with more _finesse_ ,” he stressed the word and Bular scowled, “we may have more success in acquiring the amulet.”

 

“And by finesse I assume you mean sending changelings to sneak around the shadows like cowards.” Bular snorted. Stricklander exhaled sharply before replying, checking his temper.

 

“In a manner of speaking, yes. I know you prefer immediate action, but planting a spy in Troll Market would be a wise course of action.”

 

Bular chewed this bit of information carefully. On the one hand, Stricklander had a point, however repulsing it was to admit it. A spy _would_ be incredibly useful. On the other hand, Bular hated the subterfuge his changeling underlings thrived in, and he had already endured enough of it, lurking in this museum for years, waiting for any opportunity to venture out and attack whomever was Trollhunter at the time; but a spy would not banish him to any more waiting than he would be subjective to normally-and perhaps whomever was chosen could lure the Trollhunter away from Troll Market, steal the amulet...well perhaps _that_ was placing too much faith in the abilities of changelings in general, but the point remained that however incompetent the impure chosen was, a spy would offer an advantage.

  


“Do you have a candidate in mind?” Bular said after stretching moments of silence. The smug grin that spread across Stricklander’s face was almost enough to make Bular change his mind.

 

“I believe I do.”

 

-

 

A loud clang echoed through the air and Kanjigar froze immediately as a tall metal pole with a light attached to the top (a mystifying contraption whose purpose seemed to be to provide light through the dark, which was strange as no humans ever seemed to be out at the time when the light would be useful) fell to the pavement, rolling slightly before coming to a rest at the Trollhunter’s feet.

 

He and Agman, pitifully exposed in the lingering glow provided by the pole’s still-standing companions, (if Kanjigar recalled correctly, the things were called _lampsticks_ , or something of the sort) waited painfully for a human to investigate the disturbance, but nothing happened after a good three minutes. Agman shook his head and began walking again. Kanjigar followed.

 

The two had only recently departed from underneath the bridge, and the effect of the fairies was unfortunately, but not surprisingly, present. Fairies were known for their mischievous ways, like just about every creature in the troll world, and the damage to Arcadia was severe. Windows were broken, belongings of unfortunate fleshbags were strewn across streets, wall coverings were ripped away, and many more lampsticks littered the sidewalk.

 

Thankfully, fairies were not stupid enough to be seen or caught by a human, so at least the risk of discovery was eliminated somewhat, though with the rapidly advancing technology the fleshbags developed (which consistently confused Kanjigar as he picked his way through the broken town) even fairies would run out of tricks.

 

Another fortuitous happening was that Arcadia’s inhabitants did not decide to stay wide awake and on edge with the appearance of what was probably written off as a crime spree or something of the sort. It could be supposed that the humans had been through stranger things, what with Bular lurking and all sorts of Trollish matters leaking to the surface. Kanjigar took comfort in the fact that he had probably not made the worst mistake in the history of trollkind.

 

Agman strolled in front of Kanjigar, something the latter had been upset by. Agman insisted in accompanying the Trollhunter to the surface in retrieving the fairies, to ‘offer guidance’, which irked Kanjigar considerably. He was no whelp who knew next to nothing of Trollhunting, nor was he an untrained oaf, and it was these thoughts, circulating around his head insistently, that distracted him from seeing the door of one of the identical shops slam open suddenly, knocking into Agman.

 

“Ack!” the old troll shrieked as he fell, a bit melodramatically, but it did serve to get Kanjigar’s attention, and he rapidly whirled in a circle, searching for the offender.

 

“Who’s there?” the words were redundant, as it was obviously the fairies (who probably didn’t understand Troll), but Kanjigar uttered them still. Naturally, no response came.

 

Agman flailed on the ground for a few seconds before righting himself quickly and huffing.

 

“They must be in there.” he pointed at the building that had attacked him, a silver-gray shop with a broad glass window bearing several cracks which glittering pieces of jewelry lay haphazardly underneath illuminated blue letters that said something about gems and a man named jeffrey-the difficulty it took to decipher the loopy lettering served as a jarring reminder for Kanjigar to brush up on his Human.

 

The two trolls squeezed through the door with no small struggle and emerged in a thoroughly wrecked habitat, with an overturned desk and papers flung everywhere, accompanied by sparkly contraptions Kanjigar did his best not to step on and break even further.

 

But besides the sheer disarray of the place, all was quiet and seemingly secure...for about two seconds as the trolls got their bearings before the flapping of leathery wings set them on edge and Agman looked up to see a malicious blue creature leering at him.

 

One puff of dust and cut-off warning later, Agman was on the floor, Kanjigar was gripping his sword with in preparation, and all hell was ready to break loose.

 

-

 

Malum had actually had a very delightful day thus far. They had finally managed to escape the pathetic wire prison they had wasted away in for so long, _and_ , as a lovely bonus, got to taste surface air again.

 

Plus it was quite fun to taunt and defeat trolls four times their size, though trolls were slow, stupid creatures, Malum was beginning to realize.

 

“Mehemii!” They jittered, gesturing to their friend who still perched atop the fallen body of the larger green troll, reclining on its horns like a throne. “The armored one!”

 

Mehemii reacted to the warning without fully understanding it, diving down to the ground just as the large blue troll’s sword sliced the air above them. Malum cheered.

 

“Many thanks.” Mehemii mimed blowing a kiss to their friend, Malum playfully caught it, and together they dashed to the fallen desk they had been behind before the trolls came bumbling past, collecting the small shiny circle the humans had imprinted with the faces of men.

 

The blue troll followed and Malum reached into one of their many pouches, attached to their belt with flimsy thread that threatened to snap at the weight of the goodies Malum had stashed there. Withdrawing one of the larger circles, they sadly bid goodbye to their treasure, and, with no great effort, flicked their wrist and sent it flying in satisfying spins directly into the eye of the troll who was lumbering over to them.

 

The troll flinched and cursed, but kept moving, at a faster rate this time. Malum wished they had not used all of their fairy dust already. It had been so hard to brew in the corners of their dusty cage, preparing for escape, and their supply had already been dwindling by the time they reached the surface.

 

“Mehemii! Anything left?” Malum asked their friend as they both jumped away from the desk and scampered across the floor, aiming for the door that was still propped open. Mehemii fumbled in their pockets, procuring naught but one last package of the dull grey powder they used to heal their wings (which had been torn beyond definite medical solutions years ago, so thank goodness for temporary solutions).

 

The two fairies glanced at each other as they fled across what seemed miles longer than it was earlier, arguing with their eyes over who would use it. Mehemii finally relented and shoved it into Malum’s grasp, and the latter eagerly flung the solution over their wings, grinning as the bent membranes snapped into place and torn and tattered edges glossed over. A flap of their wings and a jump and off Malum went, spiralling to the ceiling. They stuck out their tongue at the troll before swooping down for their friend.

 

The troll threw his sword and missed, the gleaming blade embedding in the wall. Malum cackled and alighted on the hilt mockingly, reaching for Mehemii’s hand. The troll snarled, and in a flash of light the sword vanished and Malum fell to the ground before they had the chance to unfurl their wings, landing on top of Mehemii in a pile of limbs.

 

It was the troll’s turn to laugh, and he quickly snatched the two fairies, who struggled to no avail, belt pouches empty. They were masters of evasion but once caught, tricks exhausted, they were stuck. Malum slumped in defeat and Mehemii patted their back sadly. It would be back to the large green one now, cooing over them in their wire confines. At least she fed them well enough (and her cages were easy to escape, assuming she did not learn from this experience and upgrade security).

 

“We will have freedom again.” Malum snarled at the troll holding them triumphantly, stilling their struggling at last. Mehemii spat on the troll’s hand for good measure and that was that.

 

-

 

Ognaf slunk through the bushes, wincing each time a twig cracked or a cluster of leaves rustled alarmingly loudly. Such were the trials of a troll the size of a tree sneaking through a forest that was too small.

 

Thankfully, he found what he was looking for quickly.

 

Borar had not lied; the citizens of Troll Market were painfully uncautious. This was the third troll he had seen in as many hours, and the sun had only just set (albeit, they did carry strange contraptions that cast shade on their gigantic forms-Ognaf took note to tell his superiors of it).

 

This, however, was also the first troll he had seen _alone_ , and alone was vital to this mission. Ognaf stopped his slinking-he did not need to be spotted before he even emerged from the safety of the foliage-and took a moment to observe his prey.

 

Pale lavender, paler still in the moonlight that managed to filter through the trees, and ivory horns, arched towards the sky. Crystal fragments littered her back, small enough that they wouldn’t be a problem when Ognaf struck. She appeared to be rooting through the undergrowth, occasionally pausing and stuffing some greens inside her basket. So she was a healer, or vendor, or something of the sort. Not a warrior though, although it wouldn’t have mattered if she was. Any training offered by the peaceful citizens of Troll Market, who had not tasted war in who knows how long, would have nothing on the endless drills and exercises Ognaf had carried out without fail for centuries upon centuries, nor the opponents he still recalled vanquishing at the Battle of the Bridge.

 

Shifting carefully in the undergrowth (not carefully enough), Ognaf saw her ears perk, and she started to turn and he cursed the broken twig he now saw he was standing on.

 

Before the troll had a chance to look behind her Ognaf was pinning her to the ground, his actions delivered with a speed that belied his hulking form. He fumbled in the pouch Borar had given him, cursing at the amount of time it took him to grasp a handful of the dust the shoddy brown sack contained. The troll struggled futilely, spitting insults at him (insults he hadn’t heard in thousands of years).

 

She managed to land a glancing blow across his face and Ognaf grunted, shifting his weight to immobilize her better.

 

“Stop struggling.” he huffed, scowling as grains of powder slipped through the fingers he had thrown open upon receiving the blow.

 

“Release me and then we’ll see!” she snarled, and, if anything, squirmed more ferociously. Ognaf growled half heartedly and finally gathered what he needed, flinging the dust in the angrily contorted face of the other troll.

 

She blinked, sneezed, then her eyes rolled shut and she went limp. Ognaf rose to his feet, pulled the pouch closed, and hastily checked that his captive was still breathing (he had little faith in the effectiveness of the trickery pulled together by Fagon) and, satisfied with the results, began dragging her unconscious body across the moist earth, grumbling to himself.

 

“Chief Utol had best reward me for all this trouble.”


	4. chapter four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kanjigar's victory is short lived, Vendel's memory is declining, Utol and Bular introduce new problems.

_ Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it  _

_ -Terry Pratchett _

 

Kanjigar was in good spirits as he made his way down the glimmering crystal steps, Agman trailing behind him grumbling about how he was entirely too old for this. Kanjigar neglected to remind him of the grueling hours the Trollhunter had spent pressing the fairies to figure out how to awaken the old troll, a challenging feat considering the huge language gap (the fairies were probably faking) and the general stubborness of the little creatures in general.

 

However, the fact still remained that the fairies had been apprehended, which admittedly had been far simpler in a confined space where there was one exit that could be easily guarded, and when the fairies were generally running low on tricks. Needless to say, Kanjigar’s second Trollhunting mission had been successful, a fact that was nearly enough to drown out the utter shame of the failed first mission.

 

It was rather shocking, then, to reach the bottom of the stone steps and find not a single soul waiting expectantly-excepting Bagdwella, who looked overjoyed at their return, but then, Bagdwella hardly counted. Practically all of Troll Market had seen them off, most of them grumbling at his past failure and wishing him luck with the most unhelpful smiles. One would think they would be gathered in anticipation to see the failure of their Trollhunter-Kanjigar was looking forward to shocking them with his competence. But no one was there. He had been gone a long time, albeit, nearly the entire night, but trolls’ patience was traditionally more long lived than even that (when you lived to be hundreds of years old, you grew accustomed to waiting for things).

 

“Trollhunter! You’ve brought my fairies!” Bagdwella gushed, rushing forward.

 

“Where is everyone?” Kanjigar mused, half to himself. Not only was the base of the stairs empty, the entirety of Troll Market was suspiciously quiet, none of the hustling and bustling, haggling and screeching usually accustomed with the various stalls, which were unmanned. Bagdwella scoffed.

 

“All off to see what they can overhear from the Tribunal, eavesdropping goblins.” she snatched the fairies from Kanjigar’s grasp and shoved them none too gently in a cage, one that looked far too flimsy to hold them. “How can I repay you for bringing Malum and Mehemii back?” the verdant troll fluttered her eyes to the point of looking like she was having a seizure.

 

“Perhaps by returning them to Iceland.” Agman interjected. “They caused too much trouble here, and who knows when they could get out again.” 

 

“I was talking to the Trollhunter.” Bagdwella snapped, crossing her arms.

 

“Why was the tribunal summoned?” Kanjigar said, before Agman could reply and sidetrack them even more.

 

“Oh, something about missing trolls...I didn’t catch much.” Bagdwella drawled. 

 

“Missing trolls? Why didn’t you start with that!” Kanjigar turned to Agman, indignance simmering in his gaze. “They can’t meet without the Trollhunter, can they?”

 

Agman sighed.

 

“According to Troll law, the Trollhunter does not  _ have _ to be present if he is unavailable. It’s simply a formality to-”

 

“Bushigal! “ Kanjigar spat, turning and stalking towards the center of the market. “I was perfectly available.”

 

Agman steepled his fingers tiredly. “Look, we’ll wait for them to disband and then talk to Vendel. Surely he can tell us something…”

 

His words fell on empty ears, or rather, thin air, as Kanjigar was already off, reason unheeded. Agman rubbed his brow, ears drooping.

 

“Headstrong. I like that.” Bagdwella commented nonchalantly, eyes glued to the retreating Trollhunter.

 

“He has a mate, you know.” Agman huffed, gathering himself and letting his exhausted old feet carry him after Kanjigar. Bagdwella’s expression was enough to provide him with some amusement for the journey that got longer every year.

 

“A  _ what _ !”

 

-

 

Traditionally speaking, the tribunal should have happened months ago, when the first Krubera wandered too close to the cave entrances and never came back, leaving not even a crumbled stone statue. It should have been called when the Quagawamps lost a citizen in their marshes with strange footprints larger than any troll species in decades left at the site.

 

But it took two more such disappearances for anything to be done. Javniss’ capture had been the last straw; Vendel had summoned the tribunal that night, and thanks to modern troll technologies like the gyre, they had met mere hours after the call had been sent out. Theories had been brought into question, witnesses had been interrogated, and things were not looking good.

 

At present Gato was in a heated argument with Usurna.

 

“We have not heard from them in years! It would be foolish to assume even for a moment-”

 

“So you would rather believe what? That Gumm-Gumms have escaped from the Darklands and are kidnapping our citizens?”

 

“It would certainly be more believable than  _ an entire tribe _ returning from the dead.”

 

“If Gunmar or any of his minions were out we would know, and not from mere missing trolls. Your ideas are ridiculous!”

 

“No more ridiculous than yours, if I might remind you that we are not even sure if those prints are from a Tapiado.”

 

“What else could it be? Unless one of your minions came bumbling down, no troll today can even begin to compare with the  _ sheer size _ of that thing-”

 

“But a Gumm-Gumm might, we have no  _ idea _ what sort of things Gunmar might have down there.”

 

“I hardly doubt his ‘things’ would leave chunks of clay everywhere.”

 

“There’s mud all over the Quagawump swamps, it doesn’t take a genius to figure that some of it might have dried-”

 

“I’m not talking about the Quagawumps, fool!”

 

Vendel rubbed his forehead and thumped his staff to regain some semblance of order, several times with increasing insistence to catch the attention of his bickering companions. He had long forgotten what the two were debating about, and it really did no good to let them continue down their line of conversation, as past experiences had proven.

 

“Tensions high.” Wumpa grumbled as the troll queen and assemblage of rocks that represented Gato quieted, resorting to glaring at each other with as much dignity as possible.

 

“Wumpa is right. We are getting nowhere. Perhaps a brief recess is in order.” 

 

Usurna nodded reluctantly.

 

“We should consult with our tribes. I suggest we meet back here in one hour.” the statement was met with agreement from the assembled, and the five trolls filed out onto the streets of Troll Market, where the market’s inhabitants, along with the respective entourages of the tribunal members, assembled, crowding back in an attempt to pretend they hadn’t been scuffling and shoving to get an ear pressed to the door.

 

Vendel’s intentions were to venture to the troll bar, nurse a cup of whatever the flip trolls drink when they wish for the sweet release of death, and contemplate retirement, but fate had other plans when it sent the newly appointed Trollhunter directly in his path, blustering expression predicting trouble. Vendel sighed and prepared himself.

 

“Vendel,” Kanjigar began, taking a deep breath. “I wish to speak with you.”

 

“Yes, well, make it quick.” Vendel responded, neglecting to mention that the Trollhunter already was speaking with him, because it really wasn’t the time.

 

“I heard you summoned the Tribunal.” 

 

“Indeed I did. There has been some most alarming news about one of our trolls being kidnapped, and I…” Vendel trailed off.

 

Apparently in the rush of preparing for the Tribunal and supervising his irate companions certain facts had slipped Vendel’s mind, or rather, certain details regarding the facts. This had been happening more and more often as the goat-like troll aged, but his forgetfulness had rarely had such disastrous consequences. Vendel resolved to brew something for this memory impairment as soon as he had dealt with today’s effects.

 

“You…?”” Kanjigar prompted just as Agman showed up, panting horridly. 

 

“I’m...sorry Vendel...told him not to bother you.” Vendel would have laughed at the way in which Agman doubled over if not for the fact that he probably would do the same if he chased an arrogant Trolhunter across Troll Market as Agman evidently had.

 

“Ah, yes, well, as I said...trolls have been vanishing from the other tribes, and with the recent disappearance of one of our own...I saw it best to summon them at once. Something is going on here we don’t understand just yet.” the old troll floundered, for the first time in years, as to how to say this.

 

“Who was it, Vendel?” Kanjigar clearly had more on his mind, but thankfully he led with the more banal questions first.

 

“I’m very sorry to inform you that it was Javniss.” Vendel answered, wincing at the expression Kanjigar bore. “I would have called you immediately had you not been on the surface-”

 

“You could have sent a messenger!” some trolls reacted to bad news (such as the fact their mate had been kidnapped by unknown probably hostile forces) with shock, sadness, an array of emotions. Obviously Kanjigar chose to go with anger.

 

Agman stared blankly at Vendel as Kanjigar raged, disapproval evident, but it wasn’t as if a trainer was going to dictate how Vendel should have handled news. 

 

“Where is my son? Does he know?” Kanjigar growled, glancing around for the hotheaded blue troll in question.

 

“If Vendel did not think to inform the Trollhunter, I highly doubt he thought to tell Draal.” Agman said, lofty tones unappreciated. 

 

“If he’s not here he’s probably in the forge.” Vendel proffered, shuffling towards the destination he had determined to visit before his path had been intercepted. “My apologies for not informing you, Trollhunter, but I think you ought to find your son.” 

 

“Yes,” Kanjigar stated in a detached manner. “Yes, Draal should know.” he started off in one direction, then stopped. “I expect to hear more about this later, Vendel.”

 

“Of course.” Vendel replied. The Trollhunter nodded once, then again more firmly, and embarked. Agman, unfortunately, chose to stay behind.

 

“You had a missing troll and you didn’t tell the  _ Trollhunter _ ?!” Agman hissed, crossing his arms.

 

“I suppose it slipped my mind, and besides, he was probably too busy chasing fairies at the time for me to send anyone.” Vendel frowned. The Trollhunter’s wrath he could take, but Agman should know better than to pick a fight.

 

“Fairies are minor nuisances-things like kidnappings are why we even  _ have _ a Trollhunter. What was his mate even doing aboveground?”

 

“Gathering human curiosities I expect, for her stand. It’s not uncommon, you know. Ventures to the surface are entirely legal as long as you stay out of the human dwellings.”

 

“I’m surprised you remember that.” Agman spat. Vendel scoffed.

 

“I wrote the rules, of course I remember them. Notifying a Trollhunter who was appointed yesterday about events that have already transpired is not at the top of my priorities.” (of course at this point Vendel should have at least apologized but he had already appeased the Trollhunter somewhat and calming down Agman was not anything he was prepared to do when the other troll had intentionally sparked an argument.)

 

“It’s his  _ mate _ , and it  _ is _ a priority to notify the family members of someone who has undergone a trauma or tragedy.”

 

“I didn’t convince the Tribunal to take a recess to argue law with you, Agman. What’s done is done, and nothing can change my mistakes.”

 

Agman sniffed.

 

“You should tell the Tribunal that.”

 

“Troll Market is not the only location trolls have been disappearing from. The other members are far more worried about the bigger picture than a single troll who’s had his feelings hurt because we didn’t tell him  _ immediately _ something he probably could have gleaned from the grapevine.”

 

“Wait.” Agman held up his palms. “Trolls have been disappearing all over the globe and you did not think to put a ban on the surface until things were resolved?”

 

“They didn’t seem connected, and you know the outrage a ban like that would cause.”

 

“You could have at least  _ told _ everyone so they would be a bit more prepared-”

 

“No matter how prepared they are, whoever is doing this kidnapped a Krubera, a troll bred and raised for sport and combat, and you’re telling me the peaceful citizens of Troll Market would stand a chance against that?” Vendel interjected. The irate green troll across from him floundered.

 

“That is still no excuse not to tell them!” 

 

“Mass panic is not the best way to ensure our safety.”

 

“Nor is being uninformed! If Javniss had known about the kidnappings, do you think she still would have gone up there?”

 

“Yes! You know how determined she is to add to her collection, just like the rest of her family.”

 

“Speaking of which, I think we should bring ourselves back to how you  _ didn’t think it was necessary to tell Draal or Kanjigar _ .”

 

Vendel exhaled deeply and prepared for a debate. He had brought this upon himself.

 

-

 

She really had no idea where she was. Perhaps if she had payed a bit more attention during her history lessons instead of insisting her parents tell her more about humans she might have recognized the craggy brown face of her captor, or at least been clued off by the muddy cave she was huddled in, bound tightly by crude but sadly efficient ropes fashioned from who knows what.

 

As it was, Javniss was in the dark as to her situation, figuratively and literally, as there was only a single torch outside her cell casting just enough light to form an obscene amount of shadow.

 

Her mind was racing faster than a gnome on a crime spree, mostly berating herself for stupidly venturing out of Troll Market without protection. Even though there was no way she could have known about the consequences, it helped to be able to place the blame on someone.

 

The pounding of footsteps that heralded the arrival of her captors echoed in the empty space, which would have been a welcome relief from the sickening sound of her hastened breathing if the footsteps weren’t accompanied by a hulking troll easily two, maybe three times taller than her.

 

“Utol will see you now.” the troll said with a leer, as if Javniss was a guest to be honored with the chief’s presence instead of a hostage.

 

Javniss put up little resistance. As her few escape attempts upon arrival had proven, the gigantic guard could subdue her with no trouble, and besides, she had no idea where to go in the maze of tunnels that he led her through with practiced ease.

 

The mud tunnels were as haphazard as the trolls who dwelled in them; layers of mudstone interjected with siltstone and sandstone struggling against the softer sediments. They were also barren; Javniss counted a total of three bystanders as she was prodded along, all alone, looking at her with detached interest in their faded yellow eyes. Considering how out of place she must have seemed, a splotch of lavender and green in the dusty brown surroundings, the stares were warranted, but not entirely welcome. 

 

And now they were somewhere that somewhat broke the monotony of endless muddy caverns, which, though holding their own charming beauty, had a novelty that significantly wore off in the patchy shadows. Eternity of silence and mud had brought Javniss and her captor to a sheer wall with wooden doors shoved into the cracking surface, weathered and beaten, brass handles clinging to the wood with more life than the twin behemoths stationed at the corners displayed.

 

The troll accompanying Javniss grunted a syllable Javniss did not know and the guards shifted, hills of clay meandering to the center of the wall and opening the doors. A definite shove from her captor sent Javniss stumbling through the gaping maw the open doors presented, straight into the belly of the beast.

 

Stalactites tapered down from the ceiling in uneven clusters miles above Javniss’ head; craning her neck she could just begin to see the blackness that would be the top of the cave. Stalagmites grew in outcrops like crooked teeth lining a pathway to the back wall where a makeshift throne sat. Gypsum flowers curled around the base of a chair fashioned rudely from mudstone. 

 

Atop the throne lounged a veritable giant, even for troll standards, even considering the massive size of  _ these _ trolls. A leather loincloth wrapped around his craggy body, and a crown perched on his head. The crown was the one thing that seemed to be made with care in the entire place; delicate gypsum needles encircling the troll’s head, reaching outwards in a thin, deadly dance.

 

_ This must be their chief _ . Javniss realized in between fits of terror at his grim scowl and a wholehearted appreciation of the caves. And she was correct. This was Utol.

 

Utol, a name that used to be known well. The name of a veritable king, a leader, a warrior. A name that carried with it the weight of war, the sound of hundreds of Gumm-Gumms pleading for mercy. A name that no one thought they would ever hear again.

 

If Javniss had paid attention in her history lessons, as I said before, at the utterance of the word Utol earlier she would have realized she was in the hall of the chief of the Tapiado tribe, the mud trolls, the trolls that were wiped out centuries ago.

 

Every troll with half a brain or  _ at least an attention span _ knew the story. Rallying to defeat Gunmar and his forces, the tribes joined together and drove him back, and no tribe played a bigger part than the Tapiado. They fought ferociously, ruthlessly, none more so than their chief, and largely thanks to their aid Deya the Deliverer managed to trap Gunmar in the Darklands. Thanks to the sheer numbers of the Gumm-Gumm forces, and the cruel work of the Decimaar Blade, the Tapiado did not live to see the victory, and the entire tribe was thought to be wiped out.

 

As Javniss’ current situation proved, obviously the legend was inaccurate.

 

“Welcome.” the greeting was familiar to Javniss, but she couldn’t bring herself to trust it when it came from the crooked lips of the large troll across from her, in baritones so deep and loud she could practically feel the room vibrate.

 

“What do you want with me?” brave words with a less than brave deliverance; stewing in silence for an immeasurable eternity had rendered Javniss’ voice to a raspy whisper. She tried again, louder. Utol laughed.

 

“No need to be so defensive.” he drawled, curling stubby fingers together placidly-Javniss was not reassured. Utol glanced at the guard who had dragged her here. “Did she cause any trouble?”

 

“At first, but she mellowed out after a while in a cell by her lonesome.” the guard replied gruffly.

 

“Good.” Utol shifted in his seat slightly. Javniss didn’t blame him. All that stone did not look to be a comfortable place to sit.

 

“What do you  _ want _ .” she forced herself to say again, straining against her bonds to test their strength for the umpteenth time. (As if  _ Javniss _ , the bulky but slow collector of  _ human artifacts _ stood a chance against anyone else in the room).

 

“Ah, my dear,” Javniss resisted the urge to grimace at the charming villain vibe Utol was  _ not pulling off _ (mostly due to his general aura of terror) as he leaned forward with a sickening grin, “we only want information.”

 

-

 

Bular was pacing again. It seemed to be all he did these days, pacing as he waited anxiously for his changeling sidekick to come through on whatever today’s particular evil scheme was. At least today he got to do his pacing  _ outside _ . Starlight slipped through the foliage accompanied by silvery moonbeams which would have been quite pleasant if not for the impatience bubbling in every corner of his form. Didn’t changelings understand the importance of being on time?! (On time, of course, referring to whenever it was most convenient for Bular rather than the predetermined meeting time. The son of Gunmar did not have time to cater to a changeling’s schedule.)

 

Stricklander had said that he and his associate (ie the changeling he had deemed fit for the position) would meet Bular here an hour after sundown, and though Bular had little use for human measurements of time he had no doubt that it had most likely been ‘six o’clock’  _ several _ hours ago. 

 

At last the shadows stirred and spat out Stricklander, guised in his human form which he strangely seemed to prefer. Accompanying him was another human, slight in stature but Bular had little doubt that she was Stricklander’s ‘associate’, given by the way she hardly batted an eye at Bular’s hulking form. 

 

“Is this the impure?” Bular snarled, regardless of the deduction he had already made. Stricklander rolled his eyes.

 

“Who else would she be?”

 

Bular frowned.

 

“A snack.” he stomped menacingly in the changelings’ direction. Stricklander sighed. It was the same ‘intimidation’ tactic every time. 

 

“Nomura here is going to be a valuable asset in freeing you father.” the changeling proffered, gesturing to his companion, who didn’t even look mildly threatened. To assured in her own lack of expendability. Bular huffed.

 

“I know that. I assume your ‘organization’ at least briefed her in her mission? I cannot be responsible for everything around here.”

 

Stricklander refrained from pointing out how little Bular actually did.

 

“Charming.” Nomura sniffed quietly. Bular whirled on her.

 

“What did you say?” he snarled. Nomura shuffled away slightly, noticing the sturdy grip Bular had on his weapon. 

 

“She didn’t say anything.” Stricklander said hastily, stepping between the two with a cautionary frown at Nomura. 

 

“I thought so.” Bular spat, crossing his arms. 

 

“As we were saying, the Janus Order has informed Nomura of her duty. The only thing left to determine is when she begins.” Stricklander continued. Everyone present was perfectly aware that Bular had been offered control of when Nomura was dispatched and when her mission concluded to make him feel useful (the Janus Order was basically doing everything regarding Project Killahead at this point, and being left out of the plans to free his father from the Darklands made Bular sulky, and a sulky Bular was ten times more likely to go on nightly romps around Arcadia devouring all witnesses).

 

“ _ When? _ ” Bular hissed, claws scraping against the ground. “My father is trapped in the Darklands, waiting on nothing but you and your brethren. When do you think?”

 

Stricklander exhaled.

 

“As soon as possi-”

 

“As soon as possible!” Bular interrupted with a roar. Stricklander’s eye twitched.

 

“Very well. We have our instructions.”

 

“Good.” the mammoth troll grunted. “You are dismissed.”

 

Stricklander and Nomura exited, fading back into the shadows as suddenly as they had appeared, with only a trace of vibrant viridescent light wavering through the darkness as their eyes flashed ominously. Bular snorted at that. Changelings and their dramatic glowing eyes. He couldn’t wait until his father was free and he could be rid of them all.

 

On that thought, he turned abruptly and began his much less graceful path back to the museum, to wait out the days until he could run free.


	5. chapter five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nomura begins her mission, I get a little too attached to these stupid gay mud trolls, and Kanjigar finds a clue.

_ If you are not too long, I will wait here for you all my life  _

_ -Oscar Wilde _

 

“When I find out who took Mother, they had best pray their death is swift.” Draal growled, perhaps for the tenth time since he and Kanjigar had embarked from Trollmarket. The amount of time Draal had spent convincing his father to bring him along had set them back a bit, but luckily they had managed to reach the forests of Arcadia before the sun rose, and the shadows offered by the many trees were enough to keep them from an abrupt end to their search.

 

Armed to the teeth and equally on edge, Kanjigar bedecked in his Trollhunter armor, Daylight by his side, and Draal wielding an ax the size of his arm, the two had already terrified some squirrels that were a bit too noisy in the bushes for their own good. The father and son duo were not taking any chances-they wanted to rescue Javniss, not join her. Unfortunately, a solid hour had passed, and nothing was found that could offer any clues to the lavender troll’s abduction. 

 

Kanjigar nodded and used his sword to swipe aside some leaves drenched in sunlight to check the space behind them.

 

Of course he was not expecting the lanky figure of another troll to be in that clearing, nor for his son to emit a wild battle cry and charge straight towards the mysterious form, giving Kanjigar a heart attack because he had not noticed that his son was right at his shoulder.

 

The other troll leaped to alertness (why couldn’t Draal master stealth for purposes other than frightening his father!!) seconds before Draal body slammed her into a tree like a true gentleman. 

 

“Owch!” the troll hissed indignantly, peeling herself off of the rough bark. “Who do you think you are?” she gave Draal a poisonous scowl that softened after a few seconds. Kanjigar stepped forward, lowering his sword slightly. The other troll did not seem to be too much of a threat, lanky and slightly shorter than Draal in a very  noticeable shade of magenta, long black hair sweeping the ground as she clutched her side indignantly.

 

“Apologies, madam. We were under the impression you were...someone else.” Kanjigar said. Draal nodded quietly, an unfamiliar expression adorning his features; Kanjigar would talk to him about it later.

 

“Who could I possibly be to put the Trollhunter so on edge?” the troll commented. 

 

“A troll recently disappeared from Troll Market-my father and I are searching for the culprit. Apparently this has been happening all over.” Draal proclaimed, emphasizing the word father with a wave directed towards Kanjigar, still adorned in his shimmering blue armor. 

 

“A troll disappeared?” 

 

“Yes.” Kanjigar confirmed. “We suspect a kidnapping.”

 

“How...coincidental.” the other troll said, and for the first time Kanjigar noticed how she was favoring her left leg, one hand leaning against the tree and the other resting delicately on her leg. “I barely escaped such a fate myself.”

 

Immediately, Kanjigar’s interest heightened.

 

“Someone tried to abduct you?” the Trollhunter questioned. The other troll nodded.

 

“I managed to fend them off, though not without some damage.” she gestured loosely at her leg. Kanjigar felt his face morph into a shocked expression. That would serve as evidence not to underestimate anyone-this unassuming troll had managed to escape whatever had been capturing trolls including the esteemed Kruberan warrior from months ago. 

 

Beyond the respect the Trollhunter was garnering for this stranger, there was also the fact that she had information. Draal had apparently come to the same conclusion.

 

“Did you recognize your attacker?” Draal asked. 

 

“No. It was dark and I ran away as soon as I could-or rather, limped.” the troll said with distaste, catching onto Draal’s arm as she brought herself up from her reclining position. Kanjigar’s son looked like he had been stabbed. “Why? Should I have?”

 

“Ah-I don’t, I mean, no, you probably wouldn’t know- _ we  _ don’t even know-about who attacked you, uh, that is.” Draal stammered. The other troll studied him for a moment during which Draal seemed about ready to flee to another planet.

 

“I see.” she said. Kanjigar felt the conversation derailing.

 

“What were you doing outside of Troll Market?” he asked, resolving to question the darkened appearance of Draal’s face later.

 

“Enjoying the moonlight.” the troll shrugged. “Exploring the woods, dodging humans. What everybody does when the night is bright enough. Unfortunately, along with losing my way, I also lost my key.”

 

“You lost your horngaazel?” Kanjigar said. The other troll nodded solemnly. 

 

“It was foolish of me, I know. But by the time I realized it was gone the sun was up and I’ve spent the morning slipping through shadows trying to find my way out of this maze.”

 

Kanjigar grunted. Draal appeared to be formulating something very hard, and after a few moments of silence that dragged on he managed to spit out a question.

 

“What is your name?” Kanjigar could hardly see how the troll’s name was relevant to their search, but refrained from commenting.

 

“Nomura.” the magenta troll smiled, slitted green eyes boring into Draal’s face. “And yours?” 

 

“Draal.” 

 

Kanjigar narrowed his eyes as his son smiled foolishly down at ‘Nomura’. He cleared his throat slightly and watched Draal hastily turn.

 

“And, ah, this is my father, Kanjigar.”

 

Nomura smiled slightly, nodding in Kanjigar’s direction before turning to Draal.

 

“A pleasure to meet the Trollhunter and his handsome son.”

 

The ‘handsome son’ stood stone still and the Trollhunter frowned a little, observing how Nomura’s weight was still braced on Draal who seemed very aware of it as well. 

 

“This has been pleasant, but I’m afraid we have a search to conduct. If you cannot give us any more information than we already have, perhaps it is best if you return to Troll Market.”

 

Nomura hummed in agreement.

 

“Yes, but, in my current state, I doubt I can go much farther on my own-”’

 

“We could take you!” Draal blurted. Kanjigar stared at his son very carefully. 

 

“I don’t think it would be wise to abandon our search now. If another troll has recently avoided abduction, perhaps the culprit is still lurking around.”

 

“Ah, yes, of course.” Draal scuffed the ground lightly with his dinosaur feet. Nomura patted his arm as best she could.

 

“It was a lovely idea, but I wouldn’t want to hinder your search.” she shifted her weight to her uninjured leg, wobbling before catching her balance with a wince. “Perhaps you could point me in the right direction?” 

 

“You don’t have a horngaazel, and your leg is broken.” Draal frowned, reaching out to Nomura hesitantly as she stumbled. “Maybe if I left my father to the search, I could help you find your way back?” 

 

“I don’t know if that would-” Kanjigar began before he was cut off by Nomura.

 

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that.” she smiled. Draal beamed back. Kanjigar crossed his arms sternly, not at all appreciating how easily his son ignored him, not at all convinced that letting his son travel alone with a stranger (however injured) back to Troll Market was a good idea, and entirely too aware that there was probably nothing he could say to dissuade Draal from this course of action, given the peculiar way he was staring at Nomura.

 

“Very well.” he huffed through gritted teeth. Nomura offered him some mundane expression of gratitude for the use of his son as a brace, which made Draal laugh profusely, which confused Kanjigar further and angered him even more.

 

He  _ especially _ did not like how the magenta troll was draping herself on Draal’s proffered arm as they staggered away. But he resolved himself to turn around and continue the search. There would be time to address this later.

 

-

 

At least here he did not need the torches.

 

The room was dimly lit, golden light gently emanating from the crystal in the center of the room, shorter than Borar but taller than a fleshling. Waves of warmth followed the light, rushing over Borar in a comforting mass, welcome, but a pale comparison of what it once was, lapping at the edges of his being like the embers on a log after the fire has gone out.

 

He scanned the cavern quickly. If the others deemed his presence here to last longer than necessary, it was doubtful they would let him visit ever again. His fellow generals already griped enough about his plentiful exposure to the weakening heartstone; it would not do well to fuel their complaints further.

 

“Fagon?” He called, softly, letting the echoes rebound before trying again, louder. 

 

“I am here.” the reply came, faint, but present. Borar followed the voice’s trembling reverberations to the source-it was not hard. Living in the dark for so long had made him better at navigating it than ever.

 

“How do you fare?” Borar asked, nudging the troll in front of him, a good head shorter than the general and a ruddier shade of reddish brown instead of Borar’s grim tan, though all looked sickly yellow and gray in the fading light. 

 

“You mean how does the  _ heartstone _ fare.” Fagon replied, busily scribbling calculations on a worn page already covered in graphite.

 

“The heartstone can wait-have you eaten today?” the general huffed when he received no response and reached forward, pressing his hand against Fagon’s shoulder with just enough force to make him stop writing for a moment.

 

“Should I have?” and then he was writing again, mouthing numbers and words silently. Borar growled.

 

“You’ve been working on this all day,” he gestured to the parchment’s rushed symbols with a frown. “It’s not good for you. I’ve barely seen you since the last report. If you keep running yourself down like this…” Borar let the sentence trail off into the possibilities. Fagon stopped writing with a jab of his pencil on the parchment (the pencil was one of his prize possessions, stolen off of the corpse of an unfortunate hiker. The lead was duller than ever but it functioned still, despite the troll’s oversized hand and tight grip).

 

“The tribe’s survival is more important than the health of one member, like I’ve been telling you for years.” Fagon scowled, glancing at the heartstone before making a move to put the lead back on the paper. Borar intercepted the pencil and carefully maneuvered it from the smaller troll’s grasp, despite proficient protests.

 

“The tribe isn’t doomed if you stop for lunch every now and then.” Borar frowned, holding the pencil out of Fagon’s reach. Fagon jumped, stumbled, and toppled, only stopped by a surprisingly quick move on Borar’s part as he caught the off balance troll, frown deepening. “Or sleep.” 

 

Fagon sighed heavily, leaning into Borar in defeat, and the general obliging wrapped an arm around him.

 

“I know, but this…” Fagon exhaled for a moment, gaze fixed on the crystal as the light dimmed another notch, barely visible to the naked eye but all too apparent. “This is important, it’s dangerous, and figuring things out, getting  _ information _ -”

 

“It’s the only way you know how to help.” Borar finished, butting his head against Fagon’s gently. “I know, I just don’t like it. Try to take a break every now and then?”

 

Fagon hemmed and hawed for a minute, but after Borar stopped pleading and started insisting, it didn’t take long for him to relent and promise to emerge before sundown.

 

Shortly after this arrangement was reached footsteps sounded, heralding the arrival of Ognaf.

 

“What is it?” Borar huffed at the other troll, hiding his wariness in a blustery tone. Ognaf was easily larger than any other Tapiado, excepting the king, and unpredictable on top of that. Only his loyalty to Utol held him in line, and as the most skilled warrior (again, second to the king), he posed a threat to anyone who bothered him-his temper was greater than the sun and he took a sadistic approach to pain, which unsettled everyone. No one liked him particularly, but no one was about to tell him that. 

 

“Utol has sent for you.” Ognaf snarled, leering for no other reason than it was deeply unsettling. Borar shifted in front of Fagon slightly.

 

“Are we almost prepared for the first attack?” he asked cautiously. Ognaf shook his head.

 

“The prisoner won’t yield anything. Luckily, Utol finally agreed to let me have a crack at the...interrogation.”

 

Borar shuddered at the fate awaiting the poor prisoner, but didn’t linger on it. Pity for the enemy would service no one with a war that, as far as Borar was concerned, had already started.

 

“Very well. I shall be there in a second.” the general said.

 

“Yes. finish it up with your... _ mate _ .” Ognaf laughed. It wasn’t funny. With a craggy grin, the soldier loped out of the cave, chuckling quietly. Borar turned to Fagon.

 

“Remember what you said about taking a break.” Borar warned to Fagon’s exasperated eye roll.

 

“Of course. Now go, the king wants you.” bumping his nose to Borar’s briefly, Fagon snatched his pencil back and shoved the general on his way.

 

Borar felt his good mood evaporate as soon as he stepped away from the heartstone and it’s keeper into the dusty tunnels, his greeting coming in the form of Ognaf’s smarmy smile. He couldn’t get to the central chamber soon enough.

 

-

 

Nomura made her smile as charming as possible to quell the excitement bubbling up as her companion reached into the pouch dangling at his side and withdrew a glittering orange crystal she could only  _ assume _ to be the key to Troll Market. This was monumentous. She was the first changeling to enter Troll Market in how long? Eternity, most likely. She almost laughed at how annoyed Stricklander must have been at this but refrained in favor of a flirtatious remark as she stepped carefully over the threshold, out of the shadows and into the eerie light of the crystal steps spiraling down. 

 

The poor brute she had wheedled into being her escort stammered back, like he had every time she had flirted at him. It was really too easy. 

 

“Thank you for getting me here.” she smiled, brushing her claws lightly against Draal’s shoulder.

 

“It was the least I could do.” he replied, and, after a time; “I’m sorry I slammed you into a tree.”

 

“No worries.” she said, carefully leaning on Draal yet again. “You’re quite strong.” Nomura hummed, starting down the stairs with difficulty that wasn’t feigned-her leg really was broken, courtesy of Bular in his efforts to ensure her acting was as realistic as possible. It was a sobering reminder of how little the hulking troll cared for his changeling allies. Most of her weight was braced on Draal, who hardly looked bothered (by the extra bulk, that is).

 

“Ah, yes, well...I train.” he grunted, hand trailing the wall as they descended, probably to keep them from toppling. 

 

It didn’t take long for the pair to reach Troll Market, only suffering one moment where Nomura started into a step wrong, a perfectly calculated move that resulted in Draal snatching her close before she fell and becoming even more flustered.

 

Nomura did her best not to stare at the sweeping expanse of glittering light and bustling trolls in front of her, though she was hard pressed to do so. Instead she allowed herself to take up a conversation with Draal, which was actually becoming increasingly difficult. 

 

“I can...walk you home from here, if you would like.” the blue troll started, hands unconsciously linking together nervously. “Where, ah, do you live?”

 

“Coming on a bit strong there.” Nomura chuckled. The big troll was, in a sense,  _ cute _ as he stammered out apologies. Luckily his nerves managed to cool down as she chatted him up, leaning easily against the rock wall to rest her injury, and he was able to match her flirtations with a few of his own, weak, but appreciated nonetheless. 

 

“So you’re the new Trollhunter’s son.” Nomura commented.

 

“Yes.” Draal confirmed. “What about you. Any family?”

 

Nomura shook her head.

 

“None living, except my brother and I hardly see anything of him.” a background she had decided completely independently-the Janus Order had ‘briefed’ her by informing her loosely of her purpose, thinking leaving the backstory part to Bular would make him less cranky about his usefulness. Since the only thing Bular had given her was a reason to limp more realistically, it was apparent that the changelings had vastly overestimated the forethought of the son of Gunmar.

 

“Does he not live here?” 

 

“No. ever since our parents’ death he’s been nomadic. I don't know where he is, much less how to contact him.” she feigned remorse and Draal gently, if hesitantly, patted her shoulder in a clumsy attempt to lift her spirits.

 

“That must be horrible for you.”

 

“No worries.” Nomura shrugged nonchalantly, rapidly brightening her face. “I’ve gotten used to being alone, or as alone as anyone can get in Troll Market.”

 

“Oh.” Draal shifted. “Well, perhaps after today, you won’t have to be so alone anymore?” 

 

Nomura blinked at him. Once. Twice. The mission was going along swimmingly. Bular would be pleased.

 

“I’d like that.” she gave him a soft smile that he reciprocated readily. “I’d like that a lot.”

 

-

 

The magenta troll’s path was not hard to follow. Her broken leg had hindered her travel, dragging in the dirt, not to mention the disturbed bushes and leaves littering the ground from branches, probably shaken up from her trying to steady her weight against the flimsy tree appendages.

 

Kanjigar could have simply asked Nomura where she had been ambushed, or had her lead him there, but something about her unsettled him. Perhaps it was the attention she paid his son, touching and talking to him an unrealistic amount.  _ Flirting _ . That alone was enough for the Trollhunter to be wary of her.

 

So instead he settled for trekking through the forest, searching for signs of an ambush anywhere along the path.

 

A surprisingly small amount of ground was covered before Kanjigar spotted something that didn’t belong-as far as he was aware, no plants shed leaves that so vividly resembled paper. The most likely possibility was that it was, in fact, litter from the humans that occasionally traipsed through the woods, further supported by the fact that Nomura’s trail seemed to continue beyond the scrap of paper. However, Kanjigar was not going to leave any rock unturned or clue uninvestigated, so he paused in his stroll to examine it.

 

And it was most definitely not a shopping list or magazine catalog dictating the sales of the season-the words were recognizably Trollish, though messily scrawled and with many characters and symbols Kanjigar had not seen but in history textbooks. It took a minute for the Trollhunter to decipher the words, squinting at the page as apprehension settled deeper and deeper with every character, converting into alarm when he read the last word on the page.

 

_ Utol _ .

 

Vendel needed to see this.


End file.
